Saturday, January 03, 2009

My comeuppance

Colic. It's awful.

I'm number 6 of 7 kids. Most of my older brothers and sisters will tell you all about what an awful baby I was. In fact, when I was in labor and pushing with Lillian, Mom entertained all of the nurses and the doctor with colorful stories about me crying for hours and hours and the creative sleeping arrangements that had to be made to accommodate my fickle moods and how I would only be calm in the swing which was a wind-up number so periodically throughout the day, "WIND THE SWING" was a common interjection. She, probably only half-jokingly, would tell me that she wished I had a baby as awful as me, just so I could get a taste of my own medicine.

Too bad for her wish, Lillian was great. She slept, she hardly cried. It was fabulous. 'I could do this 7 times, no problem.' Not that I want seven kids, but you get the idea. Now, I have Nora. For the last two and a half weeks, she's been great. Not so great at sleeping as Lillian was, but manageable. Then yesterday happened; she started crying. I fed her, she cried. I burped her, she cried. I changed her, she cried. I swaddled her, she cried. I held her, she cried. I took her temperature, normal. No change in bodily functions, no excess vomit.

What do you call a baby that cries for no apparent reason? Comeuppance.

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Us and Things

We are the Balls: raised in California, raising kids in Arizona. Amanda is sacrificing every last shred of her sanity to the care and feeding of the little ones while Tyler earns bread and butter by designing spaceships. Welcome to our craziness.

A taste of the Ball life

Amanda: What do you want for lunch: ham sandwich or peanut butter sandwich?Lillian: Ham. No, peanut butter. No... ham... No, peanut butter.Amanda: Ok, I'm going to make you a peanut butter sandwich. (makes sandwich)Lillian: NO! I WANTED HAM!!!!Amanda: You said peanut butter, and I told you I was going to make you peanut butter.Lillian: No... I think you just spaced out Mom.

Tyler on dodo birds: I mean, any species that can be wiped out by rats probably didn't deserve to live. Nature should have selected them a long time ago to go extinct... it's like it forgot and got there late.

Lillian: I like carrots mom. They're like... juice you eat.

Tyler was reading Lillian a picture book in which a little boy finds an airplane in his closet and takes it into space where he runs out of gas and lands on the moon. On the moon, he meets a little Martian boy, wearing a space suit, who's spaceship had crashed.Tyler: How come the Martian needs a space suit and the little boy doesn't? This book is so inaccurate.

Lillian threw a piece of food during dinner.Tyler: Lillian don't throw food.Lillian: But, it was just a little bit of food.

Amanda looks over and sees Lillian desperately trying to shove the Camelbak valve into Nora's mouth.Amanda: Stop that! Don't put that into her mouth!Lillian: Mom, I'm just playing doctor.Amanda: Well, don't put it into her mouth.Lillian (accompanied with change in tactic): Just her ears.

Lillian (pointing): This is my neck. This is Daddy's neck. This is Mom's neck. Nora doesn't have a neck.

Amanda: Listen to this, "The men and women of the Yana tribe in California speak different dialects." (TIME Magazine).Tyler: The men and women speak different dialects in our house: sense and nonsense.

I ran upstairs briefly and left Nora in her chair with a curious Lillian looking on. Nora started fussing and crying a little and I heard Lillian say, "Nora! Stop Crying! Use your words!"

We practiced and practiced saying "Daddy, I missed you" all the way to the bus stop, a full five minute drive. Upon arrival, I prep Lillian one last time. I roll down the window, Tyler sticks his head in, and I prompt Lillian, "do you have something to say to daddy?"Lillian looks up at him with her eyes full and sincere, "Juicebox."

Amanda: This dictionary says Wednesday can be pronounced wendz-dee or wendz-day.Tyler: Well... that dictionary was written by an old person.